Page 99 of Beautifully Shattered
She even tried to stay up all night last night, just to avoid them, but she didn’t last past four in the morning before she was dragged into sleep, and then woke three hours later, screaming.
Going inside, I spend a few minutes with my ma, happy to see she seems to be getting a little better each day. She’d already had a lupus flare-up during the time I was away from Abbey, handling club business and hunting some of my Angel’s rapists. Then the ambush happened, and she witnessed the violent brutality of my world, along with Jols and Millie getting shot in front of her… so yeah, she’s been struggling.
With a plate of food in hand that Ma insisted I take for Abbey, I climb the stairs, two at a time, making my way to my room.
Up on the landing, I glance out the ceiling to floor window and I spot Millie over by the barn, sparring with one of the Marx crew.
If it were Lans, I’d immediately think she was trying to seduce the guy. But Millie isn’t like that. She’s over there because she’s determined not to be a victim again. That’s what she told me, anyway.
Fucking hell… everything is so fucked.
Sighing, I step into my room, hearing the shower running as I move deeper, and I place the plate of food on the bedside table before moving to the open bathroom door and leaning on the jamb.
“I can feel you watching me.” Abbey’s voice drifts from the shower, her body hidden by the fogged-up glass until her hand swipes across it, and her eyes meet mine.
“I can’t really see you, Angel.”
Her smile is small. Forced. She’s been struggling to fake happiness since the funeral, but fuck, I wish she wouldn’t even try with me.
I just want to see all of her. Even the parts that hurt.
“Oh well. Too bad.”
Even her voice lacks the will to sound happy.
I chuckle anyway, trying to treat her as normal as possible.
“You need help expressing?” I ask, knowing that’s why she’s having her second shower of the morning.
It’s easier for her to express milk under the hot water. There’s less of it now, the engorgement not such a big issue anymore. She told me that her body will slowly stop producing it if she only expresses just enough to make herself comfortable.
The thing is, she can’t seem to make herself stop.
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.” She shuts me down, not for the first time lately, and I fight the urge to fucking pout.
Clearly JD is right, and I’ve got a fucking lactation kink. I didn’t even know it was a thing, but here we are. Although I’m pretty sure it only exists because it’s her.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.Sheis my kink.
“Ma insisted I bring a plate of food up for you. It’s on the bedside table,” I tell her, pushing away my disappointment at being shut down.
Ever since Bobbi’s funeral, she hasn’t let me draw from her.
Fuck it. Now my cock is getting hard just thinking about taking her nipple into my mouth and sucking until I feel the warm milk spill across my tongue.
A low growl rumbles in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I’m at the door of the shower, swinging it open to hear her squeak in surprise.
“Fine. I’ll eat the food,” she mutters, arms snapping up to cover her tits.
Fuck. I forgot I was talking about the food. My fucking head is too focused on her tits to think straight.
“I know you will, because you’re not leaving our room until you do,” I snap, my gaze trailing down the rivers of water streaming over her curves to the small patch of hair crowning her pussy.
Fuuuck. I’ve still got weeks to go before I can sink inside her.
“Someone’s bossy this morning,” she snaps back, and my eyes dart back to hers.
“Why are you covering your tits?” I dare to ask, and she sighs, looking defeated.
